


love, in all its complexity

by oomiboshi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Barely any dialogue, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Short, Slice of Life, Stream of Consciousness, tsukkikage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oomiboshi/pseuds/oomiboshi
Summary: If you ask Kageyama Tobio what love was to him, he would just smile. After all, how could he describe such a profound concept in a few simple words?To him, love comes in the form of a tall, blond boy with horn-rimmed glasses.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	love, in all its complexity

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe that the first hq fic I've made is an impulsively written and barely edited declaration of love for Tsukishima.
> 
> Oh well, enjoy!

Love is a silly, silly thing, isn’t it? It’s always a delight to wonder how a chemical reaction in our brains can cause a lasting effect despite the ephemerality of human existence.

The blend of serotonin, dopamine, and various others, comes in many shapes, many forms.

Sometimes, it appears as your small, cozy childhood home, when the scent of vanilla and freshly baked cookies excites your senses, making your mouth water as you imagine the taste of oozing chocolate and crumbly bits of butter and brown sugar melting on your tongue.

Love could be the faint images of the wind blowing past your hair as you run on a hot, summer day, playing, laughing, collapsing on the grass with people whose souls are akin to your own.

Perhaps, it is the memory of holding a child in your arms, the bundle soft, fragile, with its eyes closed and its small hands reaching out, trusting itself in the care of an older, wiser being to allow it to grow and be nurtured.

Everyone views love differently.

If you ask Kageyama Tobio what love was to him, he would just smile. After all, how could he describe such a profound concept in a few simple words?

To him, love comes in the form of a tall, blond boy with horn-rimmed glasses. Whose smile, only reserved for his eyes, could make even the worst day brighter.

Love is when he comes home to their shared apartment, finding the older boy on the sofa engrossed in a book that Tobio, himself, would never pick-up, and watching the expression on his lover's pretty face change as he immerses himself in the story.

Love is when Tobio wakes up, enveloped in fresh sheets, with the bright rays of the morning sun seeping through the panes of their window, and the first thing he sees is an angel fast asleep, strands of his golden hair brushing against his hooded eyes. His heart beats faster at the sight, every single day without waning, and he falls further into the abyss when a husky “Good morning.” flows from his lover’s rosy lips, eyes twinkling with mirth at the image of him flustered.

Even when they’re arguing about the stupidest little thing, Tobio finds himself drawn to the grump he calls his. Even on a normal day, his lover isn’t the most expressive, but he could never miss the way his eyes steel, or how his eyebrows furrow in the slightest. Love is when Tobio says “Ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.” out of spite, and he just _does_ it.

Love is when they’re kissing on their ratty sofa, careful hands running under cotton shirts, wanting to touch, desperate to feel. The promise that ‘things will be okay’ is a poem told in the form of sweet nothings and light kisses on every inch of his pale skin.

“I love you, Tobio.” He would always say. His lover will have the tiniest smile, his brown eyes, always so careful not to let slip even the littlest of emotions, will be brimming with affection for him, and only him. His calloused hand would be on Tobio’s hip, his thumb brushing over the band of his jeans, right under his shirt. And he would be gentle as he pressed his forehead on his, their noses brushing against each other as his words lingered in the air for Tobio to breathe in.

“I love you too, Kei.” He would reply with a smile as he cups his lover’s face in his hands. An effervescent sensation rises from his stomach whenever Kei presses his lips against his, and he thinks, perhaps that’s love too.

It’s interesting how such a transcendent experience could be told in so many words, and yet it is never fully described. And so the dilemma of the question, “What is love?” remains unanswered.

For now though, as he lays in bed, listening to the playlist made just for him, Tobio combs his fingers through the sand colored waves of his lover’s hair, and he is content with the answer in his mind.

 _Tsukishima Kei._ That is love.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, if you've made it this far, thanks for reading!
> 
> Let me know what you think, maybe?
> 
> Find me here:  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/oomiboshi?s=09)


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